


In Different Strides

by Megane



Category: Devil May Cry
Genre: Ballroom Dancing, Character Study, Dancing, Experimental Style, Fatalism, Gen, Heart-to-Heart, Inner Demons, Moving On, Quite Literally Facing Your Demons, Reconciliation, Scenery Changes, Self-Doubt, Self-Reflection, raison d'être
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-18
Updated: 2021-02-18
Packaged: 2021-03-14 12:01:21
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,908
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29542050
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Megane/pseuds/Megane
Summary: Vergil has come to the end of his journey, and the only thing he can do now is rebuild, move forward.Heal...What a novel concept, but it seems it won't have to go about this quite so alone.
Relationships: Vergil & V (Devil May Cry)
Comments: 2
Kudos: 14





	In Different Strides

**Author's Note:**

> Inspired by this _magnificent_ artwork of V and Vergil dancing. Sadly, the artist doesn't seem to have their Twitter account anymore. I couldn't stop thinking about it when I saw it, so I hammered this out a bit.
> 
> Artist has already seen, but now, after a while, I'm sharing it with you all.

Vergil had set out to meditate. That was originally his goal. Even though he was physically whole again, he couldn’t help but feel that there was still something unsettled inside of him. He wanted to correct this embarrassment; he wanted to deal with whatever misgivings might have lingered so that he could finally be at peace. Or something like it. He wasn’t hoping for much on that front.

That being said, he also wasn’t sure what had brought him to _this_ place, to the destroyed remnants of what remained of his home. He didn’t have fond memories attached to this manor. Sure, there had to be _some_ that lingered, but they were tainted now. They had been charred by Vergil’s own loathing (both self-directed and not), and they felt so very distant from him. It was as if they had existed in some other lifetime, they were so far away. 

He found himself sitting on a ruined settee in what used to be a ballroom. His family’s? Someone else’s? He hardly knew; it hardly mattered. 

His thoughts were interrupted when he heard the sound of footsteps coming his way. They were slow, steady. There was nothing about this new presence that read as hostile, so Vergil turned his head towards the source. His posture eased, and he felt himself rise as a dark haired someone stepped towards him.

“Hello, Vergil,” said the raspy voiced male. He was slight, so much smaller than Vergil himself, but he stood with a smug sort of confidence that felt familiar in a sense. Vergil started to question, but then his lips pressed tight. This man resonated with Vergil. There was something about him that was so singular and familiar that it was equal parts disgusting and distressing.

There was a shame in facing his human self that Vergil had never expected. He had done so much in his conquest for power that all he could do was live with it. Or so he thought, but now that this fragment was meeting him face to face, he found himself thinking something else entirely. He wasn’t sure what to make of this development, so he cast a hand out to the side.

“Have you come to berate me? Make me think deeply upon the mistakes I’ve made?” Vergil watched as dark hair swayed ever so slightly when the man tilted his head. “I don’t need you to open those wounds.”

“We both know you are capable of bloodletting all on your own,” the man replied with a huff and a smile. He tilted his head down, staring at the fingers curled over the top of his cane. And then, after a few seconds had passed, he moved to the wall where the wallpaper was stiff and peeled and leaned his cane there. Afterward, he closed the space between him and Vergil.

With every step, a memory was starting to fill in, but they were still distant. The lens through which Vergil tried to see them was mostly opaque, barely letting him get a full view. But one thing was clear, something that was repeated over and over again, building into an echo that couldn’t be ignored.

This shadow’s name was V. 

As if feeling this realisation, V paused, and his smile eased into one of knowing. He nodded his head. “Yet more uncharted territory for us to cross, isn’t it?”

“So it is.”

Now that V was here, Vergil looked off to the side, trying to piece together why exactly the two of them were here. Finding nothing, he looked back to his discarded half. He could feel that V’s spirit was so enriched, so much more than what it had been when they were broken apart. It made Vergil feel… something. It was hard for him to place with everything going on inside of his head. V stepped closer.

“There are times when the body provides what words cannot,” he said simply. “Instead of trying to plead your case, perhaps you could make me understand some other way.”

V curved past Vergil towards the dance floor. He had his hands behind his back. A memory in sharp relief filled Vergil’s head suddenly. Cracks along V’s skin and face, the tremor in his voice, the weakness in his body.

He said, “You recovered.”

V paused and then laughed. He turned his head, but his hair blocked a portion of his face. “So I have.” He tilted his right shoulder back and looked to Vergil now. “But have you?”

Vergil closed the space between them, hardly aware of his own movements. V looked away and began walking forward. Though there wasn’t much place to go, Vergil had an urgent, almost frantic feeling that this… _specter_ could get away. He reached out for V’s shoulder and twisted him around. V moved with the turn, his hair whipping around his face, catching on his full bottom lip and stilling there. Vergil slid his hand down to V’s arm as if resisting the urge to do something about that.

“Watch yourself,” Vergil warned.

V’s head cocked again, this time to the left, as his smile stretched to the opposite side. His torso jerked with a suddenly huffed laugh. “I believe I already am.”

Vergil sucked his teeth. Fair, that.

It was uncanny, honestly, to feel V in his hand like this. Vergil was holding onto something that should have been nothing more than a memory. He was holding onto something that shouldn’t have existed either present or prior. But that was his own fault, now wasn’t it?

V didn’t move to break Vergil’s hold. He actually moved closer. His left hand traced a path up Vergil’s right arm. He watched as his fingers made idle steps. Vergil’s own attention snapped over as if offended, as if questioning, but making no move to verbalise or stop this. 

“Isn’t our suffering enough? Is the past not the past?” V asked, his voice thoughtful.

Vergil looked to him, body tight and foolishly thinking that V had no right to say that. He pressed his lips together, feeling flush from his own haste whether enacted or not. If there was anyone else outside of Dante who would understand, it would be V. Painfully and deeply. Even better than Dante, perhaps. It was a curse. One that was also of Vergil’s making.

“What do you want from me?” he asked finally.

To his expected annoyance, V only shrugged. “I’m a wraith. I’ve no feelings here or there about what you should give. I think I’ve taken all I can.”

“But you must want more with your time cut so short?”

It’s what he would have wanted. It’s what he had fought for time and time again. V looked at him before slowly shaking his head.

“No… I think not. Well.” He looked around at the space around them. Desolated, ruined, burned to its base. A hollowed out memory of what may have been. “It’s perfect, don’t you think, for those just like us?”

Vergil looked now, and as he did, something… unexpected happened. There was a noise that he almost couldn’t parse, but he quickly caught on that [ there was music playing](https://open.spotify.com/track/2FLf5IipDsi4kCUa1DQNQa). He looked around for a source but was unable to find one. He looked at V, who only watched him. His gaze was expectant, but his expression was hard to read.

 _“There are times when the body provides what words cannot,”_ V had said.

The sigh that followed was of irritated resignation. “ _Fine_ ,” Vergil replied with long disused acquiescence. V didn’t slight him, only smiled smugly as they crept into a waltz.

Vergil wasn’t sure what all of this was supposed to “say”. In fact, he watched the male with him as they moved. He almost expected for this younger fragment of himself to be as lost as he was when they danced, but there was some higher force keeping their footing true. These were not moves that Vergil had ever studied, and V himself only knew what motions his soul demanded. They moved together based on that insistence. Vergil could feel it pressing into him; he could feel that demanding resonance vying for his attention.

He caved only a little, if only to understand what was happening in front of him. V turned his head to the left, eying the destroyed room and exposing the pale line of his tattooed neck. 

“There’s a certain beauty in this place, I think,” he said calmly. His posture seemed to insist that he was sure Vergil wouldn’t drop him. It was annoying in its own sense, but Vergil knew that he wouldn’t do such a thing. A petty twinge inside of him begged the contrary. “In all of my time of seeing the destruction that laid in the wake of Urizen and other demons, I have never seen something like _this_.” 

The pair widened their steps, making full moon circles around the space. Vergil, having turned his head to the other side and facing away from V, grimaced as he listened. What beauty was there in the wake of a fire? There might have been the relief of being alive, but there was a colder, less welcoming understanding that so much had been lost. Or forgotten.

He felt V’s fingers tighten their hold on him as they continued. V spoke again,

“You don’t think it’s peaceful.” It was as much of a question as it was a remark.

“I’ve a long way before I find peace, but I certainly won’t find it in this place.”

“Why?”

Vergil scoffed. Was V serious? Vergil raised his right arm, and V stepped underneath it. His hand smoothed over Vergil’s stomach as he rounded the swordsman. He came around again with a spin. Vergil held him again, readying his leg. They pressed close to each other, and they leveled each other with a challenging stare. V’s body turned towards the hold as Vergil extended their arms. Neither of them spoke until their steps fell again.

“Because there was death here.” V smiled at the irony; it was less pleasant than the other smiles had been. “Meaningful death. Unavoidable, maybe, but meaningful nonetheless.”

“And where was the meaning? In this place or the shadows burnt into it?”

Vergil turned his head away then. Something ran down his chest, a sickening feeling almost like guilt. It was built the same but wasn’t quite the same shape. It was cold and small; he felt it run down the front of him like melting ice. There was something striking to this feeling. It was a deep shame. No. Regret. Mournful pain, suffering without an end. It was all contained in an instant.

V watched him from the corner of his eyes. 

There was something like relief when [ the ambient, sourceless song ](https://open.spotify.com/track/6wmTaGulprlAzrlvVSJwWA) changed around them. Goosebumps broke over Vergil’s skin at the change in atmosphere. V felt the same, seemingly shaken out of his own thoughtful trance.

“You have a lot of chatter left in you for a so-called wraith,” Vergil remarked as he effortlessly maneuvered them into a turn. 

The pair glided along the black damask floor. V’s lips quirked up, eyes trained to his left. Vergil guided his other half backwards. One of V’s hand rested on his forearm; the other cradled the back of Vergil’s head. Though his expression was stoic and far less impressed, Vergil caressed the curve of V’s spine. His fingers found themselves threading through dark hair. For a moment, they were in a world of their own, separated even from this one. 

They went upright again and continued their movements. Their bodies cut a path along the floor. They followed each other breath for breath, never giving way.

“So I do, but perhaps you would know all about that, Vergil.”

They slowed with a flourish. Vergil hooked his left ankle with V’s right and extended his leg to the side slowly. The pair lengthened out, their joined hands lifting towards the ceiling as their bodies angled down to one side. Vergil glared down at the floor; V smiled serenely to the ceiling.

“Was it worth it?” V asked, his voice little more than a whisper.

They switched sides. Vergil’s hand slid up the length of V’s tattooed arm to grasp his right hand anew. V’s left alighted on his waist, and they bent the knees of their extended legs before moving forward, shifting their combined weight in one fluid motion. They rose like a wave and continued their dance.

Vergil hadn’t answered yet. The question was still weighing its part in his mind. V knew this internal debate all too well. For him, though, when it became too much, the debate became external—a poetic soliloquy recited to his demonic companions. Sometimes, it became a quip, short but straight from the soul, when nothing else could describe his plight so well. For Vergil, he knew it was almost always quiet rumination. A worry multiplied by a thousand, a wretched weakness made so much more disastrous by the unrelenting picking of his own mind. Would he ever answer, V nearly wondered.

Vergil’s hand smoothed a warm line to the small of V’s back. He slowed them into a more intimate space, their hips pressed together to keep the steps.

“No,” Vergil said after long thought. His eyes were downcast between them, fixed on V’s collarbone. With a blink, they were staring at each other, eye to eye. “No, it was not.”

They stayed that way for a long while, merely staring at each other and listening to the synchronised beats of their hearts. For V, it was humbling, grounding. In a sense, the power that he felt in Vergil satisfied him. It made him think that his journey was enough, that his efforts had been worthwhile. That his life, whatever it was and whatever that meant, had not been in vain.

For Vergil, his feelings weren’t exactly the same, but they weren’t necessarily… negative either. How novel. He was humbled seeing V and feeling him, accepting him as his own entity as well as a remnant of Vergil’s own self. It proved that so much was possible in this world that shouldn’t have been and that the blood of Sparda willed the preposterous into being. Vergil himself had done so much that seemed beyond doing, and he did it all to prove that he could. To prove that he was the master of his own fate, that he had his own control in spite of it all.

Vergil jolted then, feeling V’s soft touch on his face, and then the summoner’s thumb caressed his bottom lip. With a firm press, V tugged the corner of Vergil’s lip up and to the side, slowly and absently. He huffed a laugh through his nose.

Around them, there was a shift like a breeze in autumn. Vergil blinked rapidly, coming back into himself. He saw something drift to the floor. He peered over V’s shoulder and saw a single crisp leaf, as orange as the setting sun, quietly make its descent. He looked around then. He and V were no longer in that oppressive box of greys and black. They were outside in a forest. It seemed reminiscent in a way. It reminded Vergil… of home, of the yard just outside of the manor and how beautiful it all seemed with the changing of the seasons. He looked above to the crowns of trees looming high above them, and then he turned his attention back to V.

The living memory stood with his eyes closed, and a smile curving his lips. He was basking in this, soaking up the sun like a flower long deprived. The silence gave way as [ music drifted in](https://open.spotify.com/track/6KrGGKj13vonG1ssTxiTdq). Vergil was hardly aware of it as he stepped closer and slipped his hand across the petite slope of V’s hip.

_“Can there truly be / Such fools as we_

_Who run from what we share?”_

V opened his eyes with a slow, content rise of his lids as Vergil’s fingers curled around his own. 

_“Were we to take a chance / With an intimate glance_

_Will we be braver that we dare?”_

_Will we_ … That was truly the question that plagued Vergil. He didn’t consider himself a fearful sort, even though there were memories nestled deep inside of him that unfortunately shook him still. Instead of lingering on that, he let the music wash over them. As one, the pair closed their eyes, and they moved as the song demanded of them. Vergil had never danced the rumba, but V had in passing. It was a whimsy he had learned while he was finding himself. He had learned the finer joys that made him feel human. And sometimes, the body expressed what words never could.

It was a struggle that V could feel as Vergil let him take the lead. Thankfully, their steps weren’t interrupted as this silent exchange happened. V extended their leading hands outward and guided Vergil into a turn. It was reminiscent of a Viennese waltz as they rose and fell into another turn. Their cheeks touched; their chests rose with a singular breath. V watched the world twist around them through his lashes when he felt moved to. Otherwise, they danced blindly.

The steps were slow at first but grew with fervor as they continued, possessed by some need to speak in a way they could never have truly spoken, to admit to crimes and sins that weighed heavy on their already burdened souls.

 _I hear you,_ V’s body seemed to say. It resonated in the sweep of their feet when they ducked low and rounded a synchronised kick at the ground. Leaves flew around them, falling away in a beautiful arch as the pair rose once more. _I hear you_ , he promised.

Vergil ducked his head against V’s neck, lips pressing against the pulse point, and _yes!_ This body was alive, thrumming with that piteous humanity he once loathed so much, but now he was learning to embrace it. Past whatever physicality was demanded of him, he was starting to grasp what it meant to be human and alive— truly alive! The lead switched the moment Vergil arched V’s back, dipping him low in a crescent pattern. V’s dark hair swept along the leaf covered grass, a brushing kiss against nature itself. Vergil’s eyes opened briefly as he watched the man, but they closed yet again before they were off.

They danced through the trees, spiraling around the thick trunks. V raised an arm above their heads, twisting Vergil as the lead changed once more _effortlessly_. They drew close—tight—as if they were each other’s last breath of air. Their faces were close, the corners of their mouth touching as they drew in a breath that made them both feel so whole.

Complete.

[ They danced to share life this time](https://open.spotify.com/track/0iiaWTYVkZM3BvwbvebSZC). They danced to celebrate and to mourn as the music shifted into something radically different from the tender beat it had been. They didn’t care who led who so long as they kept ahold of each other. V’s fingers tightened high on Vergil’s shoulder as he kept his arm aloft. He whispered something—a prayer, a thought perhaps. Vergil wasn’t sure and didn’t care.

He felt himself burning from within. He felt a certainty and a security he hadn’t felt in decades. He felt something that he had been desperately seeking when he was working to spite Dante. It choked him—rose suddenly in his throat like bile that it was almost overwhelming. His body sank forward against V’s, but that didn’t interrupt their dance.

“Now, now,” V whispered, his voice raspy with the same revelation of freedom. He bent his knee and brought Vergil with him as he arched back. Vergil practically straddled his thigh, his leading hand swept down the length of the paler man’s side. They met each other’s eyes. “I’ve got you.”

Could his humanity have been strong all this time? Had Vergil really been this much of a fool blinded by power that never once made him feel like this?

 _“Tch, of course,”_ he could hear his brother’s nonchalant chide, and as always it prickled under his skin.

He rose to his feet and pulled V with him. He spun the summoner before guiding him back into a flip over his steadying arm. When V landed, he was twirled outward at arm’s length. He cast his free hand up, ran his fingers through his hair, and then flicked his hand out high above his head. With a hop, he drew back into Vergil’s space. And there they were twisting dangerously again. Their bodies moved like cyclones as they lamented, as they yearned, as they hated everything about each other.

They parted with an exhale, hands cast down at their sides. They stared at each other again, fragments of an already broken mirror. Their perceptions and expectations had been warped, but here they were still. Again and again, they rose from their pain, their torment, their isolation. V raised and curled his right arm. Vergil closed in, ready to accept him now in more than one way.

They danced to find closure.

Vergil was hardly aware of the fire that engulfed every tree around them as they turned. V watched over his shoulder as everything smouldered and burned, as everything became ash in the fire's wake. But it was cleansing; it was… reassuring. He felt peace when he smiled. He closed his eyes as he was bent backwards. His right leg kicked in the air behind Vergil. He opened the eyes to see the world upside down. The damask was polished to its former glory. The never-used ballroom was flush with furnishings against the far wall. There was a smoky glass chandelier hanging above them that seemed to twinkle despite the lack of light in this place.

V rose with a snap, Vergil swiftly catching his hand. A shift of their palms, and the demands changed. V forced Vergil to take steps back, moving him, guiding him to live, live, _live_. They moved with such a fury and such focus that when they pressed together, there was a charge of power shared between them. Vergil choked on the feeling of relief, of completion, of once more feeling as if he was once more his own. V blinked slowly. The stinging of tears came to his eyes, though nothing fell.

V and Vergil parted from each other. V with a twist, but soon, Vergil was upon him. Vergil caught his shadow, his other needed self, and arched the man over his bent knee. V wrapped an arm around Vergil’s shoulders and stared at him. They held each other’s gaze, breathing the same air as they struggled to compose themselves.

For two articulate beings, they could find nothing to say to each other. V laughed shakily and flashed Vergil a smile. It took a moment, but Vergil returned it with a reserved one of his own. Vergil leaned forward to touch his forehead to V’s; the summoner reached up to run his fingers through the short white hair.

Around them, wisps of blue-white power floated into the air, but they were then gone in a flash, restoring the dilapidated room to its former glory. Only the silence remained, leaving these two halves on their own to absorb what they had become and to reconcile with what they had found.

**Author's Note:**

> Soundtrack:
> 
>   * "The Coven" - Peter Gundry
>   * "Danse macabre" - Ophelia's Dream
>   * "Les feuilles mortes" - Andrea Bocelli, Vernoica Berti
> 



End file.
